The Endless Struggle
by H3GI-Starbeam
Summary: This is a shortened version of my tale, a longer version of each chapter will be uploaded as i finish them. An ongoing set of tales about one of the decendants of Dr Van Helsing, the man who killed dacula.
1. Part 1, Prologue

_How? How have I become this? _He thought.

As he looked down at the pathetic thing that had once been a human, he couldn't think of a reason. _I'm a monster, a monster without a soul_.

He raised his arm, pointed the tip of the dagger at the things throat, and carefully slit it. Blood poured out, along his arm, splattering the pavement. It was always like this, swift, but violent and messy, yet it held a strange thrill. As the creature trembled violently as its life poured out of it, he stood, wiped the blade, and sheathed it.

_I said I would never become this, never be the monster, _He thought, _this is HIS fault._

He looked at the corpse, for it only had seconds of life left, for one last time. It lay there, in a pool of its own blood, wasted and with a scream contorting its dying features as it tried to make a noise through its ruined larynx.

"You were young and beautiful; I have no right to take that away from you. But I need to do this to survive," he murmured, "I'm sorry" _I can still taste you. Sweet, innocent, delicious._

As the body shook one last time, he turned, put on his jacket and walked down the alley, leaving behind the ruined, starved body of his human captive, alone in a dark spread of blood, wearing a once fine dress, now stained and torn, and a necklace bearing the legend "_Victoria Helsing"_.


	2. Chapter 1, Discovery

It had been nearly a month since any one had last seen her.

_Victoria, where did you go? _He silently asked the question that had been swimming round his mind for what felt like forever.

She had last been spotted leaving the barons ball with a tall, handsome stranger, who had been in town for less then two days and managed to get an invite to the ball. The whispers said he had a major influence on the baron; some sort of ancient, shared relative was the latest guess.

The young man that stood on the balcony of the luxurious town house, staring at the barons castle on the horizon, was surprisingly sensible looking. Quite tall, but elegant rather than lanky, with long, brown hair that fell in locks around his head, framing his face, and eyes of deep brown, that had a startling sparkle in their depths. His bearing was that of a man who had good life, but was no stranger to physical exertion. His name was Dracord Helsing, Draco to his associates. Heir to his family's duties against the evils that stalked the land at night, he appeared as nothing more than the son of a minor noble, or a rich merchant. He also appeared to be worried about something.

_You know the creed, why would you go off with a stranger without saying where you were going? _Draco stopped that line of thought before it fully formed, Victoria was still human, after all, and humans made mistakes, even Helsings. No matter how hard he tried, he could not follow Victoria's movements after she left the gates of the castle the night she disappeared, nor could he unearth any information on this mysterious stranger, save for the name he had rented a house under. Felix Hernstraag.

Suddenly a panting servant flung the door to his bedchamber open. "Sire! Come quick, its urgent!" Draco followed the man out of the door, and down the corridor. As the descended the marble steps to the main atrium, Draco heard a ruckus coming from the kitchen. As the burst through the double doors into the kitchens, Draco was met with a sight that made even his strong stomach lurch. On the table lay a wasted corpse, the skin wrinkled and bruised so much that age was impossible to determine. The scarred, twisted face could have been no older than twenty, or no younger than sixty. The dress was tattered, torn, soiled and stained with blood. Then his eyes fell on the necklace around the corpses throat, and the blood froze in his veins. The design, the shield with the blooded stake on it, was so familiar. Tentatively, hoping it was a fake, he reached out and opened the locket. As he read the inscription, his heart stopped, his world fell away.

He had known deep down it was true, but knowing his sister was dead, and seeing her beaten, ravaged corpse was different. As the locket slipped from his fingers he noticed the wound in his sisters' throat, just above the jagged knife wound across her windpipe, below her left ear, the skin was scarred in a strange, yet horrifyingly familiar way. Grabbing a wet cloth from the side he started to scrub the wound. After he had cleaned it, he stood back, a dark hatred growing in the depths of his heart.

Under the grime and blood were two, small puncture wounds, the right distance apart for a human mouth. The truth settled in his stomach like cold lead.

_Felix Hernstraag was a vampire._


	3. Chapter 2, Decisions

After the discovery of Victoria's Corpse, the next few days passed in a blur to Draco. He spent most of it in his study in quiet contemplation, as the last surviving Helsing, not only was it his family duty to destroy all creatures of shadow, but he now had a blood oath to avenge the humiliating death of his sister.

After nearly a week of studying and planning, Draco emerged from the study, he appeared tired and gaunt, but sounded decisive "I need my equipment, and some one run to the local church and bring the priest here" he ordered, and the servants rushed to obey, pleased that their master seemed himself again.

As he was strapping his knife sheaths to his calves, the priest arrived.

"Holy Father" Draco implored "I need you to provide me with a decanter of blessed water, there is a vampire in this town, it has already claimed the life of my sister and probably as many as six others."

At the mention of a vampire the priests features, already pale from a life of study, turned sheet-white. But he nodded his head and muttered "I shall fetch it within the hour"

The priest returned just over half an hour later, by then Draco was nearly finished equipping himself, he had on what appeared to be a leather jerkin, but it had plates of metal stitched inside the double-layered leather. On his legs he wore grieves, cleverly designed to conceal the calf knives from the view of others. His fore arms were covered with braces that started just above his wrists and ended just below his elbows, each of these contained a spring-loaded blade, crafted to be just longer than his outstretched palm, and so as they wouldn't accidentally go off and take half of one of his fingers off at the same time. At his hip, in its bejewelled scabbard, hung his sword, long and thin, but made by a Japanese sword artist using the folded metal technique, it was about two and a half feet in length, slightly curved and was sharper and stronger than almost any other sword, whilst still being light and easy to wield. On its hilt was a gold-covered engraving of the Helsing family crest. the whole outfit was completed with a gey cloak, covered in black, brown and green swirls, acting as camouflage.

Placing the large canteen of holy water in a loop of his belt, Draco thanked the priest and turned. He walked down the main stairs, turned right at the bottom, and left the building through the servants' entrance, his hood covered his face, and he seemed to blend into the very shadows of the night.

_Now you will pay, monster._

*

He sat back, thinking. The woman's blood hated sated his thirst, but he knew from experience it wouldn't last long. It never did. _Damn you Konstantin. _He thought. _How could you thrust me into this nightmarish existence?_ It was no good, he was already feeling thirsty. It lasted less time now as well, it had only been four days since he last fed, but she had been a wasted, pathetic excuse for a human. The man chained to the wall in the other room however, was young, and had kept most of his strength during his captivity. The man reeked of defiance and passion. The smell was strong, even through the shut door.

As he opened the door, the man looked up, and his eyes widened in fear. "Do what u want, monster, you shall hear no scream escape my lips," he said, holding his head up high.

The vampire chuckled, and then sprang forwards, too fast to see. His fist connected with the side of the mans' head, there was a cracking noise and it was apparent the mans' jaw was broken. Yet he stifled his scream. He turned his head back and looked the creature in the face, defiance blazing in his eyes.

The vampire turned, headed back towards the door and grabbed the handle. "Its alright, you don't need to scream, I will feed all the same…" he trailed off as he shut the door and blackness enveloped the room. "I only need your neck, Felix"


	4. Chapter 3, Deadends

As he crept along the street, to Felix's rented flat, Draco felt slightly nervous. A vampire was a hard enemy, fast, strong, cunning and vicious, they needed no weapons but their nails, hard as steel, and just as sharp, they could cut through flesh, bone and even soft brick with their bare hands.

The flat came into sight, it was a third story flat in a small complex about halfway down the street, its balcony was only an easy jump away from the roof of the neighbouring green grocers.

_Easy access. _Draco thought. _Well, may as well use it against him._

The green grocers was easy to climb, the mortar worn away and the bricks crooked from time, supplying plenty of handholds, it took Draco no longer than five minutes to scale the side of the building. Then he crept along the roof, careful not to dislodge any tiles, and paused and the end. Judging the distance between the roof and the balcony, about two feet above him and three feet away, he concluded it would give a human little trouble, and would be no more than a hop for a full vampire.

Bracing himself, he leapt, grabbing hold of the balcony's iron railings, he swung, once, twice, three times, then tried pulling himself up. As he did, one of the iron bars gave way with a sharp jerk, then slipped from his sweaty grasp and fell to the cobbles below with an almighty clang. Knowing that now time was of the essence, Draco grabbed another bar, hauled himself up, landed on the balcony with cat-like grace, burst through the balcony doors, rolled along the floor and came up in a fighting crouch, his sword appearing to fly into his hands.

Instantly he knew something was wrong, there was a layer of dust on the floor, walls, and furniture and the air smelled of rotted flesh, of death and misery. Cautiously, he scanned the room and noticed a lump under the sheets, on the bed. As he crept silently over to it, he realised it did not breath, although with a vampire this was not necessarily a good thing.

Carefully, in anticipation of the coming conflict, he raised the sword, one-handed, over the lump in the bed, pointing it down so that he could stab the second the body was revealed. His fingers shaking with nerves, he reached out and flung back the covers, the sword snapping down a split second after.

As the dust settled the form on the bed resolved itself into the half-rotted corpse of a man with white hair and a stooped back. Not Felix, but a servant or butler, checking the neck, Draco found two more puncture marks, evidence of a vampire's handy work.

_Damn._ He thought. _He must have other lodgings somewhere._

The smell made him want to gag; slowly he pulled his sword out of the corpse, wiped the blade and re-sheathed it. Then he walked back across the room and leapt onto the green grocers roof. Crept along the length and used the broken stonework to descend to the street, where he slunk away into the night, one thought clear in his mind.

_Where are you?_


End file.
